“What. Just because you complained?”
She shoots me a look that could cut bone. “The complaint had merit.”
“Yes. I didn’t mean… I just…” I let the sentence die.
Dr. Brett folds his hands. “Since you both are here, maybe we can talk about what brings you today.”
I clear my throat. “I’m trying. I know I’m late to it, but I’m trying. I’ve stayed sober. I moved out. I’m giving you space. I showed up to therapy. I’m trying to fix this.”
Lore doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t soften; she wont even look at me.
Dr. Brett turns to her. “Mrs. Boise, how are you feeling hearing all of that.”
She sits very still, almost too still. When she speaks, her voice is low and detached.
“I’m glad he’s taking the right steps.”
I try to catch her eyes, smiling.
Then she adds, “But I didn’t come here for reconciliation.”
Something inside me drops.
“Then why come,” I ask, my voice cracking.
Dr. Brett gently says, “Mrs. Boise, if you’re comfortable, tell him what you’re feeling.”
She takes a steadying breath, and I already know I’m not prepared for what’s coming.
“I forgave him,” she starts. “For what he did that night. I forgave that part.”
My pulse pounds.
“But he lied,” she continues. “He lied about what happened straight to my face. He left out pieces so I’d feel guilty too. I thought I had a part in him being accosted by another woman because he went out drinking because ofmypast. I apologized to him for it.”
Her voice shakes now, but she doesn’t stop.
“And then I saw everything. I saw the tape. I know exactly how willing you were. And the fact that you let me blame myself…” She stops, swallows hard, and shakes her head. “I can’t forgive that.”
My chest caves. “Lore,” I whisper, I have no idea how she saw that tape, I haven’t seen it, IA is taking their sweet time.
“It makes me sick that I let you back into my bed. That I let myself feel close to you again. That I actually believed we were healing.” Her hands twist in her lap.
Then she lifts her head and looks at me straight on. Her eyes don’t waver. They go right through me.
“Do you understand that?” she says quietly. “I feel disgusting for sleeping with you.”
My breath stutters. I didn’t think anything could hurt more than what she already said, but that… that goes straight to the heart.
“I could forgive a lot,” she continues, voice steady like she practiced this. “I did forgive a lot. But I can’t forgive you for that.”
She takes one last breath, and it sounds like she’s locking something in place inside herself.
“So, I guess what I’m saying is… I’m done.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. She didn’t scream, didn’t yell or cry.
But her voice echoes like she did all three.
